Reflection (The Chrysalis Series) (9 page)

They were breathtaking.

Each was startling in its intensity of colour and realism even as it was fantastical. She couldn’t imagine why he kept these pictures to himself. He had talent, and she was willing to bet that Mona would display his work.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Connor’s return. He was clearly making himself known so as not to startle her. No one walked that loudly. The depth of his consideration tugged at her heart.

‘Like what you see?’

‘Definitely.’ She turned to face him and smiled at his obvious pleasure in her appreciation. He was simply dressed in a soft, cotton button-down in a pale shade of blue and jeans that looked just as touchable. Pulling herself out of her wayward thoughts, she said, ‘You have so much talent, Connor. You really should be showing these.’

Something she couldn’t read flashed across his face and he just shook his head. ‘Nah, my work is strictly for me.’

‘That’s not true. What about your photography? You sell that, don’t you?’

Connor tensed and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

‘Connor? What’s wrong?’

He stared off toward the kitchen for several moments before muttering, ‘Well, it would have been a good dinner.’ He shrugged.

‘Huh?’ He wasn’t making any sense.

‘Bridget, I need to tell you something.’

Her chest clenched. Nothing good came of those words.

Connor’s stomach flipped at the possibility of additional humiliation. Something told him, though, that lying to Bridget was a quick way to guarantee they had no future and he found himself very much wanting to see what the future held with her.

She appealed to him in a way no other woman had. He didn’t question it, though he couldn’t pinpoint the why of it. It was too early. He only knew she was much more than the voluptuous body and quick wit. She was a puzzle he wanted to piece together. Too bad he wasn’t likely to get the opportunity now.

‘Here, sit with me.’ He poured two glasses of the Chianti and offered her one. She accepted it, but didn’t sip. ‘The food will be ready in a few minutes.’

She was quiet, not saying anything, and Lotus took the opportunity to come over and nose Bridget’s hand for a scratch. Almost absent-mindedly, Bridget complied. The contented sigh Lotus let out broke the tension as they both laughed at the dog’s obvious pleasure.

‘What did you want to tell me, Connor?’ Her voice was soft. She didn’t meet his eyes, but rather looked intently at where she massaged Lotus’ ear.

Tension radiated from her body and, in a moment of insight, he realised she thought this was about her.

Resolve flowed through him; he couldn’t allow her to think her revelation had changed anything. Better to just get this over with.

‘I’m a janitor.’

Her eyes shot to his and confusion clouded their green depths.

‘I’m not a professional photographer. I’m a janitor. At Pinewood, ironically.’

‘Why did you lie to me?’

He shifted uncomfortably. The semantics of lies versus omission were not going to help here.

‘I am a photographer, Bridget. It is a passion and something that I do. That I don’t make my living at it really shouldn’t matter.’

‘I agree. You’re the one who made it an issue by lying.’ She clearly was not happy.

He flushed, but continued. ‘I didn’t correct your assumptions about me because I wanted the chance to get to know you. Up to now, I’ve found that “janitor” doesn’t equate to boyfriend material. My last attempt netted me some really ugly public humiliation.’

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and decided to lay it all on the line. ‘The long story short of it all, Bridget, is that I like you very much. I’m extremely attracted to you and I’d like to see where this leads. My experience has been that women don’t find janitors appealing, so I found it convenient to leave your assumptions in place rather than expose myself.’

He paused not knowing if he should say more.

‘I apologise, Bridget. If you want to cancel dinner, I understand.’

Bridget continued to scratch Lotus behind the ear saying nothing. He refused to break the silence, allowing her the power position in this. Finally, just as his resolve was wavering, she spoke.

‘What’s for dinner?’

Not at all what he’d expected, and the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding whooshed out of him.

‘Baked ziti, French rolls, and Caesar salad.’

‘Bought or cooked by you?’ She still wasn’t looking at him, but he’d take it.

‘Made by me. Gran would have a fit it I tried to pass off takeout on a date.’

‘Gran was smart.’

The timer he’d set on the ziti dinged and he started to rise, but halted as Bridget held up a hand.

‘I understand where you were coming from with this. It’s not easy to be shamed.’ Her voice was whisper soft as she spoke. ‘But if you lie to me again, it’s done. Got it?’

He was so relieved he wanted to laugh, but he had the feeling she’d think he wasn’t taking her seriously so he settled for a grin and a very emphatic, ‘I got it.’

‘Good, can we eat? I’ve been so nervous over coming here, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.’

That took the wind out of his sails and he took her hand as she stood, ‘Bridget, obviously I can’t promise to never hurt you. Things happen beyond our control, but I can promise that I will do my best to always be open and understanding.’

She stared intently into his eyes, her own suspiciously damp.

‘OK.’ With an adorable sniffle, she added, ‘You gonna feed me or what, sugar?’

Chapter Eleven

Dinner was phenomenal. The Caesar salad was crisp and tangy, the ziti was baked to perfection, the rolls were crusty and warm, and the wine was bold and fruity. The melody of flavours was comforting, especially given the way her senses were in a riot.

Dessert was warming in the oven. Connor had admitted he didn’t know how to bake, so the apple pie was from the local bakery. She didn’t mind. So far, the man had far exceeded all her expectations.

The conversation had flowed easily. He had filled her in on the details of how he’d come to be in River Rock and gotten the job at Pinewood and she’d talked about deciding to become a teacher. She didn’t tell him about her current troubles with the dean, though. Something she couldn’t pinpoint held her tongue.

She was still finding her way with Connor and she was going to take it slow. The revelation about his job had thrown her, but mostly because it was a colossally stupid thing to lie about. But when he’d told her about the reaction of his past girlfriend she’d been unable to hold it against him.

She, of all people, understood shame.

‘Are you happy, Connor?’ The question came out of nowhere, surprising even her.

‘What do you mean?’ His brow furrowed.

‘I mean are you happy with where you are in life? You have a tremendous talent –’ she waved her hand in the direction of his artwork ‘– yet you aren’t doing anything with it.’

‘I don’t know if I’m happy –’ his brow furrowed even deeper ‘– but I’m not unhappy. My art …’ He ran his hand through his hair. Something, she’d begun to realise, he did when he was uncomfortable. ‘It’s personal. It’s not for the world to see. It’s for me.’

‘Yes, but why?’

He looked nonplussed, ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, why keep it to yourself? It’s gorgeous and I think people would respond to it.’

‘Thanks, but I have no interest in trying to make a career in the art world. It’s full of critics who like nothing better than to tear you down so they can feel good at your expense.’

He sipped his wine and looked off in the distance as he spoke. She got the sense that there was more, but she certainly wasn’t going to push him to reveal things. He might turn the tables on her and she had too many things she didn’t want to share yet.

The aroma of warm apples filled the apartment and Connor rose to serve dessert. He surprised her by coming back with only one dish.

‘Nothing for me?’ she quipped. ‘Did I anger you?’ She was only half joking.

‘Nope, you didn’t make me mad. And –’ he sat next to her on the sofa ‘– this is for us both.’

‘Really?’

His nearness was doing funny things to her pulse. She could smell the scent of his soap as he took the wineglass from her hands and set it on the coffee table. He took up a bite of pie and the ice cream that accompanied it and fed it to her.

The taste of warm apples and silky ice cream exploded across her tongue. He took a bite of his own, and then fed her another bite. It was incredibly sensuous to be fed by him. It was a first, and she had to admit she liked it.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked.

‘You shouldn’t question a man when he’s trying to be romantic.’

‘Is that what this is?’

‘Absolutely,’ he said and smiled. ‘Don’t you think it’s romantic?’

‘To be fed by you?’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘To have me in your mouth the same way you’re in mine.’

Warm grey eyes locked with hers and she realised what he meant. A burst of heat shot through her body and she surprised herself by saying, ‘Do you want to be in my mouth, Connor?’

Who in the hell had snuck into her body and put this sexy stranger in her place? Bridget almost apologised until she realised that Connor’s eyes had darkened with desire and his jeans were now very tight across the groin.

A sense of feminine power ran through her at her effect on him. It was a heady feeling and she wanted more. Taking the bowl from him, she set it on the table. And … was at a complete loss as to how to proceed. She’d never been in this position before.

The man always took the lead in every relationship she’d ever had. She’d just suffered through it. She had no idea how to be the sexy siren that left a man begging for more.

The bubble of eroticism she’d been in burst as fast as it had come on, leaving her feeling embarrassed. Clenching her hands in her lap, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

‘Connor, I’m sorry. I should probably go.’ She lurched up from the couch and scooped her purse off the table. Before she could get too far, Connor grabbed her hand, stopping her retreat.

‘Bridget, what is it?’

She turned to face him and felt instant remorse for the obvious worry on his face.

‘I just feel so stupid, Connor.’ The honesty of her reply surprised even her. ‘I’m not this sexy, vampy type and I don’t know how to seduce anyone.’

His eyes widened in surprise before a slow grin spread across his face.

‘Is that what you want, Bridget? To seduce me?’ His voice had gone low and husky, doing funny things to her insides.

‘I don’t really know, Connor.’ She took a deep breath, feeling the need to fortify herself for her next words. ‘I only know that I respond physically to you in a way that frightens me. It makes me feel out of control and I don’t like that.’

A small frown marred his face and he seemed to be in deep thought. Without saying anything, he pulled her back toward the couch and sat down.

‘Sit, Bridget.’ He patted the sofa next to him. ‘Let’s talk.’

Confusion bubbled inside her. She didn’t know where this was going. Tension surged through her. Why, she couldn’t have said, but she felt like she was getting ready to run the gauntlet rather than have a conversation. He looked so sincere, though, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she sat.

‘Let’s talk about the control thing. What are you trying to control?’

‘What do you mean? I would think it would be obvious.’

‘No, I don’t.’ His lips quirked. ‘You could want to control me or you could be more concerned about controlling yourself. The meaning alters distinctly depending on your answer.’

Bridget squirmed uncomfortably; this was getting into territory she really didn’t want to cover. She liked Connor a lot, wanted him in a way she wasn’t at all used to, but she wasn’t ready to share her deepest shame with him.

‘Bridget, I need you to be honest with me if we’re going to date each other. How can we move forward if you’re not willing to talk with me about things that affect us both?’ He picked up her hand again and began to stroke her palm with his thumb. ‘I’ll go first, OK? I admit that I’ve never been in a real relationship before. Life was always getting in the way and then I didn’t want to be tied down when I finally got out on my own. But I’ve never been one to play games. I want you, Bridget, bad. I’m worried I won’t be able to be gentle with you. I like sex dirty and rough. I’ve never been a gentle man in bed and I think you need that.’

Bridget’s body was definitely on board with what he had to say. Her nipples were tight and her sex was slick with need. But his words frightened her. She’d been walking a tightrope with him already. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall off, and with Connor, she didn’t see a net to save her.

‘It’s me I’m worried about controlling,’ she cut in as he was about to continue. ‘I –’ She couldn’t get the words out. Frustrated tears flooded her eyes and she gripped his hand hard. ‘I want you and I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I want to feel like a normal woman.’

It wasn’t nearly everything but it was true.

‘So, answer my first question, do you want to seduce me?’

Ash-grey eyes bored into hers and she saw the desire there. He was a sure thing. It made her smile.

‘Yes.’

‘Good, I like to be seduced as much as the next guy.’ He kissed her hand again. ‘I don’t feel like you’ve told me everything, though. What about yourself are you so worried about controlling?’

In a moment of clarity, Bridget realised it was now or never. If she didn’t tell Connor now, before things went any further, she never would. But telling him might end things for ever. Her head pounded at the risk she was taking. She’d spent years burying the past and building the walls necessary to move forward, but she felt in her heart this man would never be content to be kept at a distance.

‘Connor …’ She paused, trying to find the courage inside herself to get the words out. Realising it wasn’t going to get any easier, she just started speaking. ‘I’m not a very experienced woman, despite my age. I’ve had very few lovers and I already told you the problems with those relationships.’

‘Because of the rape?’ he interjected.

‘Yes and no. Obviously, the rape has made me very cautious in dealing with men. In fact, my being here at your place is wildly out of character for me, but there’s more. You see, I was a virgin until I was 18. I had very strong beliefs about sex. Not so much about waiting until I was married, but definitely waiting for the right guy, because I felt like sex shouldn’t be limited. That inhibitions were a waste of time.

‘My first real boyfriend was older than me. He was 25 to my 18. Seven years would be nothing now, but then it was a world of difference. We had a really good time together and I gave him my virginity. In return, he showed me a lot about sex. We did things together. Things I should never have done. Things I was punished for in the worst way when I was raped.’

‘Hold on, Bridget.’ Confusion clouded his face. ‘Do you expect me to believe a woman as smart as you are actually thinks that her rape was punishment for enjoying sex?’

‘It wasn’t so much enjoying sex, but more for enjoying the depraved things he had exposed me to.’

‘Depraved in what way?’ Confusion was giving way to tension as his voice hardened.

Bridget felt nausea well inside her as she prepared to expose her darkest secrets to him. ‘I let him tie me up. I let him spank me. He even spanked me here –’ She pressed her hand to her breasts and shuddered as the memory of exactly how much she’d enjoyed that particular act came back to her. Her traitorous body still responded to the memory and shame flooded her.

‘And you think this is depraved why?’

‘Because it’s not normal.’

‘Says who?’ Irritation was evident in his voice, but she knew she was right.

‘Connor, any doubts I had were taken away when I was raped.’

Taking a deep breath, Connor said, ‘I’m going to table my argument for the time being. Will you tell me about the rape? I need to understand why you think you were punished for enjoying a little kinky sex.’

She didn’t want to, but she felt she owed him this much. At least then he’d understand where she was coming from.

Closing her eyes, she fought to calm the roiling in her stomach as, for the first time in almost 20 years, she let the memories roll over her without a fight.

Clenching her hands in her lap, she exposed her deepest shame to him.

It had started simply enough. She couldn’t remember why now, but she’d been running late to drop off her friend Joe’s history notes. He’d needed them for his class the next morning and she’d promised to have them back to him before he left for practice that night. She’d called but had gotten his answering machine and this was in the days before mobile phones.

Bridget had arrived at his dorm and called him again from the lobby with no success. After hesitating for several minutes, she decided to slip them under his door. Pritchard Hall was an all-male dorm and Joe had warned her to not come through it unescorted, but he’d never given her a very good reason. Other girls seemed to have no problem getting in and out and she felt bad about having been late when he needed those notes.

The elevator dinged and opened to reveal a young, unescorted female student. Taking this as a sign, Bridget got on the elevator and punched in the fifth floor. Joe’s door was at the end of the hall and she quickly went down and slid the notes under his door. Mission accomplished, she turned to return back the way she’d come.

About midway down the hall a door opened and she almost bumped into Trent Maxwell, resident rich kid, star golfer, and serious hottie. At six feet, he was filled out nicely, with black hair and green eyes that made him look like Brian Bloom, whom she’d had a crush on since he’d starred in
21 Jump Street.

‘Hey, Ginger. How’s it hanging?’

He’d smiled at her, flashing his dimple and she’d quivered a bit inside. She wasn’t a virgin, but she’d not been “active” either. She’d slept with exactly one man and that had been after several months of dating.

Trent had been pursuing her recently. They’d been at several campus mixers together and she and her friends had gone to the Sigma Chi party where he’d recently pledged. She’d been friendly and danced with him several times. Even let him steal a chaste kiss, but she’d declined his offers of dates. She was very focused on her chemistry studies and knew she didn’t have time for a serious boyfriend, or even a non-serious boyfriend. Her chances of landing the internship she hoped for with Professor Yanchenko were middling at best if she didn’t ace her classes and she wanted the internship. It was her hope to end up a permanent member of the Professor’s research team and do her grad work under Yanchenko as well.

Trent had made it clear he was interested in her. He’d been fairly handsy when they were dancing, but Bridget was used to that. At five feet with 36D breasts and large hips, she was quite voluptuous and men tended to treat her like their personal sex kitten. It was frustrating, but she’d found charm and niceness kept the vast majority of them at bay.

Trent was a bit harder to manage, but that was more because she was extremely attracted to him. She probably shouldn’t have let him kiss her, but she’d been tipsy, and there hadn’t even been any tongue involved. Just a sweet kiss that she’d romanticised about for hours afterwards even as she’d declined his date offer.

Now, though, he was lounging in his doorway, giving her that sexy, green-eyed gaze that always made her a bit breathless. She smiled at the nickname. He wasn’t the first to call her Ginger, but she certainly liked the sound of it better coming from him than she had her older brother.